Not Again!

The cancelations are rolling in. Formal Katrina remembrances are being replaced by an unstoppable barrage of unwanted, terrifying memories. Productive work is now on hold. All eyes are on the Gulf of Mexico and the unseeing, unfeeling specter of Hurricane Gustav.
He has me churning already. His powerful winds and deadly aim at New Orleans are dredging up suppressed memories of midnight runs, stranded plans, and emotional partings.

An emergency meeting to batten down the hatches turned into a torrent of tormented remembrances. Pets are a problem. The elderly need help. Temporary office accommodations are available in Montgomery, Alabama.

The post-Katrina newcomers are staring at me, maybe a little mystified. I am waving my arms too much. My voice is strained, and my animation seems bigger than the situation calls for.

Someone voices the “no evacuation” sentiment. A Katrina survivor who fished his loved ones out of the flood jumps back in his chair, shaking his head violently. “No, sir! I’m not staying.” No one knows how to escape this gaping fissure running through our collective lives.

Lunch is now the hour of dark speculation and ominous prediction. “If we flood again, that’s the end for New Orleans. No one will come to help us.”

Everything in me resists. I don’t want to do this, not even think this.

But my mind steals inexorably to the edge of the cliff. I peer into a murky, imagined future where New Orleans has become the modern Atlantis after Gustav completes a deadly one-two punch.

Close the shutters again. Find the power drill and long screws. Cover the windows. Load the files. Fill the gas tanks. Remember how we missed the tools and computers last time. We know this routine.

Move the valuables to the second floor. Clean out the freezer. Take—what? Am I preparing for a three-day vacation or three weeks of waiting for the bowl to finally empty?

I am screaming inside—and shaking. My worst nightmare comes at me hour by hour from every quarter in vivid color with all the numbers perpetually displayed: 75 mph sustained winds, 4 mph WNW. These spinning currents are peeling off the scabs and breaking open the unhealed wounds of Katrina’s beating.

My usual “tropical storm confusion” about when to say what to whom is compounded by an unshakable sense of doom gripping the back of my neck. I don’t want to go there. How do I stop myself? What will this storm cost me? Everything?

Our levees seem so formidable when I push my bicycle to their crest. But they shrink to tiny scratches in the sand when viewed from these thunderheads. I feel panic. Did the Corps of Engineers fix those weak spots along the Industrial Canal? What about the MRGO?

My brother’s bedrooms are full, and our son has too much on his plate. We will evacuate to Texas, my wife has decided, so she can tend to her aging father for a few days. How many days, I wonder.

Someone is singing. My heart slows down. I cannot live in this emotional quicksand. My refuge in this storm of memories is a firm faith anchored somewhere beyond government, nature, and science.

I wrench my mind back to all the familiar faces, people that I love. Here lie the real values of my life. These I can protect. My possessions may be looted, soaked or mildewed, but if my loved ones are safe, I have scarcely lost a thing. This, too, I learned from Katrina.

Back to the task at hand. Make sure we have a good plan when the Mayor blows his horn. And this time we get on the correct side of the contraflow so we can actually go to Texas.

The Omnipresent Storm

Friday the 29th is the third anniversary of the landfall of our omnipresent storm, Hurricane Katrina, the most powerful storm to strike America since scientists began measuring such calamities.

Hurricane Katrina was three times the size of Rita or Andrew or Camille in the sheer energy it generated, lifting the waters of the sea at least 10 feet above sea level for a span of 200 miles. This storm surge, 30 feet high at the midpoint, filled Lake Pontchartrain to unprecedented levels and toppled the walls of the city’s drainage canals at seven different locations.

And there you have it—Mother Nature’s swirling gift that just keeps on spinning.
Not a day goes by—maybe even a waking hour—that I don’t somehow encounter this storm in my memory. Driving through Lakeview I see a new home and think, “They didn’t elevate it much. I guess they’re betting on the levees.” I see a vacant lot where a home used to sit and wonder, “Is that family living nearby or still displaced by the storm?”

I walk our church parking lot and lament the loss of trees, poisoned by salt water, that we worked so hard to keep alive the first year at our new site. I’ll think to myself, “Where is that cabinet we used for display?” and then remember, “Oh, yes, we lost it in the storm.”

If my surroundings don’t remind me of Katrina, the people around me are sure to do it. Every conversation about education, healthcare, housing, economic development, or criminal justice has its Katrina component. I visited the Orleans Parish House of Detention a few days ago and was reminded that hundreds of inmates still live in tents—remnants of the great storm.

Someone moves away, and I think of Katrina. Someone new arrives, and I think of Katrina. Is this coming and going related to the storm? Often it is.

Pick any day. Three of the five front page stories in our local newspaper will likely feature some dimension of recovery from the storm. Brad Pitt is building homes in the Lower Ninth Ward. Potential locations for the new VA hospital are being debated. A billion dollars is available to rebuild Orleans Parish school facilities.
The great storm stalled directly above us and continually pumps its downpour on our city. Across the span of our individual and collective lives, we have had precious little relief from this barrage in these three years.

And there’s more to come. The reminders will not evaporate with the passing of August 29.

Am I stuck in this fierce wind forever? Can my mind ever paddle out of this flood?
It’s too soon to tell, I guess, even after three years. As long as gaping caverns in our streets threaten to devour my vehicle, I will think of Katrina. Until the new hospitals are part of our skyline, until the inmates are eight to a cell instead of 14, I will think of Katrina. Until the schools, the levees, and the vast stretches of flood-blighted neighborhoods are rebuilt, I will always think of Katrina.

And, I guess, if our new approach to public education really works, and students enjoy an environment more conducive to learning, I will enjoy some measure of gratitude for Katrina. If Charity Hospital re-emerges as a state-of-the-art haven for the sick, I will give thanks for Katrina.

For heaven’s sake, if the Saints win the Superbowl or the Hornets top the NBA, I am going to be thinking of Katrina—the difficulties we have overcome, the problems we have solved, and the joy we have experienced in the journey from what felt like a watery grave to what looks like a successful community bequeathing a spirit of courage and determination to coming generations.

True Love

Janet and I celebrated 36 years of marriage July 17. That’s a long time.

I often remind couples during the wedding ceremony that they are making a promise for a lifetime. They make this promise without knowing what the future holds. Many challenges await them, but they promise to be faithful.

How can two people, not knowing the future, make a promise of faithfulness one to another?

God’s love is the guarantee of the promise. Love never fails, as the Apostle Paul eloquently reminds (1 Corinthians 13:8). The gift of God’s love is the reason that two people can make a promise for a lifetime without knowing the future.

The power of love is not that we love God or one another. It is that God loves us. Can you capture this with your heart and head? God loves you—passionately and beyond explanation. This love is the central power of the universe. It holds together the Trinity. The Three are One because of divine love.

So two can become one through the power of this love.

The freedom to love is granted us by the Creator God. Love must be free to be real. How could anyone coerce true love?

Love freely given and freely received—this is the ebb and flow of the divine nature and the true description of the greatest cosmic force. You will never run across anything greater than the love of God.

What are you waiting for? Leap into the current of love and discover what the Creator intended for your life.

Immediate Neighborhood - Lakeview

The population around our church is now almost 40 percent of what it was before Hurricane Katrina hist our shores. We consider this great news.

The bad news concerns blighted properties. The Lakeview Civic Improvement Association estimates that 1,400 properties remain blighted.

All of Lakeview, population 24,000 before the storm, went under water, some of it as deep as 11 feet. Lakeview is the neighborhood into which the breached 17th Street Canal poured its flood waters.

More good news—900 homes in Lakeview are under construction. When these homes are occupied the population should jump to around 13,000. Many of the new residents of Lakeview are young people. Our church is eager to reach out to these families.

The excellent elementary school, Hines Charter, should be housed in new facilities in Lakeview by the end of next year. This will be a huge incentive for young families to relocate in our area.

Lakeview now has 1,900 vacant lots as a result of widespread demolition of flooded properties. Many of these lots will be purchased by neighbors next door and become green space.

Even more good news--our Early Learning Center, the only full-time day care facility in Lakeview, now has 112 children enrolled and is gaining new enrollees almost daily. This ministry is bringing new faces to our door step and provides us an opportunity to teach little children about the love of God. Our excellent faculty uses the LifeWay curriculum for age-appropriate learning.

The best news of all—First Baptist New Orleans has an opportunity to reach out to these new residents with the message of salvation in Christ. We are privileged to be part of an active community. And we are called to communicate the love of God found through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Changing Central City - Prayer Walk Saturday!

Dozens of churches in Greater New Orleans are mobilizing Saturday to strike at the root of violence in our city. Hundreds and perhaps thousands of members of local churches will walk through the streets of Central City praying for the residents there and praying for an end to the bloodshed.

Central City is an important part of our community and home to thousands of our citizens. The area includes some great churches, schools, neighborhoods, businesses and public instititutions.
It also continues to be plagued with drug wars and senseless killing.

Churches from across the region will converge at 10 a.m. Saturday, June 28, at New Hope Baptist Church, 1807 LaSalle Street, just off Claiborne Avenue and Martin Luther King Boulevard. Groups of 50 persons will fan out in the area, praying for needs and talking with residents.

All Christians are invited to participate in this unique, interdenominational effort sponsored by the Greater New Orleans Pastors Coalition.

Southern Baptists will host a major evangelistic and prayer effort in Central City in November. The prayer walk this Saturday, June 28, is part of a continuing effort to saturate our community with prayer and witnessing.

Only God’s love can change the culture of violence that makes New Orleans the perennial homicide capital of America.

This is Daddy

“This is Daddy’s truck,” Hope told me when she was two years old. She was pretending to drive, her little hands barely moving the steering wheel. I reached for the steering wheel. “This is Daddy’s truck,” she said again, protectively.

She loved her Daddy, that was clear to me, and she missed him every hour when he was away.

Fathers have a special place in the lives of their children.

I spoke of my father last Sunday in the message—the wrestling matches when he pinned me and my four brothers all in a pile in the living room floor. I have wonderful memories of a Dad who loved me.

I forget sometimes that some people—lots of people—did not grow up with a loving father. A person reminded me this week of that painful reality.

The absence of a loving father is one of the great tragedies of the present time for millions of children and adults. It is a wound that does not heal easily.

Loving fathers are in great demand. There is no role in the family where so little means so much—a little time and attention, a little listening and talking, a little affection and direction. So many kids are longing for it—just a tender look or loving touch from Dad.

Fathers, you are heroes, know it or not. You cast a shadow that lasts a lifetime.

Kneeling at Their Work

Update from New Orleans

A former president in his mid-80s is entitled to do whatever he wishes with his time. So it wrinkled my brow to see President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalyn, on their knees affixing boards to a porch in the Upper Ninth Ward this week.
I decided, watching them work, that this presidential couple really believe they are changing the world with these small acts of kindness. Looking around, I saw many of the hundreds of volunteers who graced our city this week pausing in their own work to observe this famous man and woman accomplishing their humble service. These young faces, eyes shining, are portraits and symbols of faith and hope. They come to our city with the express purpose of lifting our spirits, holding up our arms, and joining us in the grunt work that moves our community forward.
Former presidents in their 80s seem empowered to say whatever they wish, as President Carter has demonstrated over high-level objections. They also appear empowered to do whatever they wish. And driving nails to build decent and safe houses for working people is just what this president wants to do.
He and Rosalyn are all smiles as they greet people, grab their tools, and hit the deck with gusto. They request routinely that admirers not interrupt their construction time so that they can get something done.
Harry Connick, Jr., and Ellis Marsalis dropped by to greet the volunteers and visit with the Carters. I thanked Harry for giving high visibility to our work of rebuilding, but he turned that thank you right back on me. The Carters did the same, and instructed me to pass on their gratitude to my congregation.
Sometimes, around some people, it is hard to get a thank you in edgewise. I suspect that people who are busy trying to change their world are also very grateful as a matter of disposition.
Our environment here in New Orleans is being changed one hammer stroke at a time. For us, the progress is visible and palpable. It may be hard to extrapolate our progress to the rest of the world, but all the same principles apply whether we are looking at changing a city or changing a world. The accumulated effect of millions of tiny hammer strokes is the rebuilding of a devastated region. If multiplied throughout the world, the goal of eradicating poverty housing seems truly within reach.
Of course, the only people who hope for and expect such a transformation in our city or our world are the people swinging hammers. Hope springs eternal only when we are busy building what we hope for. If despair or resignation benched us, our inactivity reinforces the despair and quells the hope.
Billy Puckett, construction manager for the New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity, challenged a thousand volunteers one morning this week to persevere in their good work. Perseverance, he said, would build character. And character produces hope.
When you see the Carters kneeling at their work, your own heart swells. You start to imagine a world where people give of themselves in this way. You begin to believe that people can make a difference. Their determination and courage ignite hope in you, the observer. Maybe genuine hope has always traveled on these arcs of imagination and admiration that connect people. Maybe hope always emanates from the sweat of honest labor and the embrace of active love.